


oh, honey

by loveroflou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Self-Harm, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, Mute Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveroflou/pseuds/loveroflou
Summary: Harry takes his outstretched hand – Louis didn’t realise he tried to stop him from leaving in the first place – and tangles their fingers together.“I can stay,” he says. Louis wants to press himself under his skin to try and feel something, anything, that even remotely resembles safety. “Whatever you want.”
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	oh, honey

**Author's Note:**

> louis is selectively mute but ao3 hates me and doesn’t have a tag for that so yes he can and does speak.
> 
> apparently exam week is my most productive week of the year isn’t that fun :) :) :) jokes aside i’m sad so here’s a hate letter to depression
> 
> (there’s more comfort than hurt and the angst is gently presented, but if there’s a chance this will trigger you please don’t read it.  
> the actual act of self-harming isn’t written, but it’s implied to have happened a very short time before the events of whatever this is start. be safe.)

“Can I see?” Harry asks, voice soft like he knows Louis doesn’t want to show him. “Please, baby,” he whispers, pressing closer to Louis, the warm puffs of his breathing hitting the bridge of Louis’ nose.

Louis hesitates, tugging his sleeve down so it’s swallowing his trembling fingers, and looks up at Harry. The green of Harry’s eyes is foggy with his closeness, or maybe it’s with the tears filling up in Louis’ tired eyes. He shakes his head hesitantly.

Harry nods. The softness is still coating his voice in messy layers when he speaks again, and Louis knew it wouldn’t leave but there’s still always that nonsensical fear, something black and ugly in his gut that he so desperately wants out. He breathes out shakily, blinking up at Harry, watching the way his mouth moves to form the words so he wouldn’t have to look at his eyes. “Okay, beautiful. That’s alright. Have you cleaned up?”

Louis shakes his head again.

“Will you clean up and come to bed then? I’ll be in the bedroom waiting for you.” He brushes Louis’ fringe from his eyes, and when Louis blinks again a tear spills messily over his cheek. “That sound okay?” Harry asks, brushing the salty water from the corner of Louis’ mouth with the tip of his thumb.

Slowly, Louis nods. When Harry stands up from where he was crouched on the floor in front of him, however, he panics, involuntarily making a scared sound in the back of his throat. Harry takes his outstretched hand – Louis didn’t realise he tried to stop him from leaving in the first place – and tangles their fingers together.

“I can stay,” he says. Louis wants to press himself under his skin to try and feel something, anything, that even remotely resembles safety. “Whatever you want.”

Squeezing Harry’s hand gently, Louis tugs him down so he’s sitting in front of him again. He moves to climb in Harry’s lap, and when he presses his weight over his left arm to get to him pain sizzles up his spine and shocks a choked gasp from his lips and more hot tears from the corners of his eyes. Harry collects him into his arms gently, pressing him to his chest and letting Louis dig his nose into the base of his neck and fist his shirt with blood red hands and cry.

Louis breaks down quietly, unlike he does most things. His sobs are muted as he tries to breathe against Harry’s milky white skin, and Harry doesn’t let himself think about how he hasn’t heard his voice in three days.

It’s hard for him to speak when he’s not feeling safe, Harry knows.

“You’re okay, baby,” he whispers. Louis’ been doing better, despite this, and maybe, Harry thinks, for now, better is good enough. “I’ve got you, it’s okay now.” He kisses Louis’ head when he shakes it, dainty fingers coming up to tangle with Louis’ chestnut hair and scratch soothingly at his scalp. “I love you,” he says, because Louis sometimes forgets that he does.

Harry quiets down then, pushing back with Louis in his lap so he’s pressed against the wall. His eyelashes flutter shut and he focuses on maintaining his even breathing when he can feel the neckline of his hoodie sticking to his collarbone with how drenched it’s getting.

They sit on the dirty tiles of the bathroom floor for a long time, until Louis’ eyes are drooping and his grip on Harry’s clothes is loosening, fists coming up to rub at his eyes. They sit longer than that too, Harry leaning down a handful of times to kiss softly over the crown of Louis’ head, feeling him melt the tiniest bit more against his chest with every other kiss.

When Harry carries him up his legs are tingling and his back is stiff, but he’s careful and lovely with Louis still, smiling against his ear when Louis nuzzles against his neck.

“Okay?” he murmurs, accepting Louis’ nod, and helps him sit in the tub, still fully clothed, before standing up straight again. “Gonna get you something to change into,” he narrates, because he knows Louis sometimes needs a little help keeping his grip on reality. “Do you want to wash up while I pick out the clothes or do you want me to help?”

Louis blinks. His cracked lips part but no sound comes out. He looks frustrated for a moment before shaking his head.

Harry smiles reassuringly. “Okay, honey. I’ll bring you a warm towel when you’re done, yeah? I’m just gonna be in the bedroom.”

The door snicks shut behind him quietly, and Harry stands still for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying not to cry. He picks out a soft, well-loved jumper, a pair of boxers and Louis’ favourite sweatpants and lays them on the bed as he waits, hanging the towel on the bathroom door handle for Louis. The first aid kit is a slightly familiar weight in his hands, and Harry hadn’t needed to bring it out in a while but now he takes a minute to stand and glare at the white box like it’s to blame.

Louis is waiting for him by the bed when Harry comes back from the kitchen with the kit in his hands, and Harry gives him a soft, reassuring smile. He’s changed into the clothes Harry laid on the bed, and he’s rubbing his wet hair with the towel.

Harry so desperately wants to kiss him better, but he knows that no matter how much it’s hurting both of them it doesn’t work like that. The therapy sessions and his medication help a bit, though, so maybe it’s okay.

“Hey, my love,” he whispers, walking up to him. Louis tries for a smile in answer, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

They sit pressed side by side on their bed, similar to how they sat on the bathroom floor earlier, but now when Harry takes Louis’ hands in his Louis lets him, leaning into his warmth.

Still, Harry asks, “Can I?” nodding back when Louis nods. The fresh cuts running down the length of Louis’ arm aren’t deep, but Harry feels bile rise up in his stomach just looking at them. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, voice honey-sweet and syrupy, genuine, because he needs him to know. “And I love you so, so much.”

He brings Louis’ hand up to his mouth and presses a barely there kiss to the soft bulge of his veins on the back of his wrist, right over the beat of his heart, and he would kiss the blood lines if they’d healed but right now he can’t risk an infection. “I love you,” he says again, lips brushing against Louis’ golden skin.

Louis’ fingertips twitch against Harry’s jaw, and Harry kisses them too before leaning back. He covers the wounds up carefully, pushing the unused sterile dressing and bandages back into the first aid kit before dumping that off the bed and pulling Louis to his chest again.

“Sleep?” Harry asks quietly, not really expecting an answer. He runs his fingers through Louis’ hair again, pausing when Louis nods and says, “Tired,” before resuming his motions, his heart expanding as warmth fills his chest. “ _Thank you for trusting me,_ ” he wants to say. “ _Thank you for calling me when you were scared and trusting me to take care of you,_ ” but he only cuddles Louis closer.

When Louis speaks again, it’s long after Harry thought he’s already fallen asleep. “Thank you for feeling like safety,” he murmurs, lips warm against Harry’s collarbone and voice so faint Harry barely makes out the words, and this time when the tears sting the corners of his eyes Harry lets them.

**Author's Note:**

> i think maybe we’re all looking for someone/thing that feels like safety. or something else philosophical like that.
> 
> tell the people you love that you love them life is too short for you not to


End file.
